


Still Standing

by a_humble_bastard (our_pens_are_sharp)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Name Changes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/our_pens_are_sharp/pseuds/a_humble_bastard
Summary: After drowning in his self pity for a month or two, Jaskier decides that he is a strong and independent bard who doesn‘t need a witcher to protect him, so he turns his life around entirely.Meanwhile Geralt continues on doing what he‘s always done- killing monsters and collecting coin. Until one day, after traveling the road alone for a few years, he starts to hear stories about a group of wannabe warriors who keep stealing his jobs.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 207





	Still Standing

**Author's Note:**

> This is the very first Witcher fanfiction I've written and I'm really curious to see what people think about it. I don't write oneshots that often so that was a challenge as well. Hope you enjoy!

Sometimes Jaskier felt as if he had too many emotions for his own good. As if he was feeling everything ten times as strongly as the people around him. That meant he felt more joy, more love than others- but also a lot more heartbreak. He‘d love to swap with Geralt for once, only to see what it was like to have no emotions- well, except for anger, it seemed. He‘d also love to make Geralt feel all the awful hurt and bitterness and longing that the witcher made _him_ feel.

He was alone, in the darkest, most closed-off corner of a tavern he‘d been able to find; lute in his hands and an untouched cup of ale in front of him. Really, the only good thing that had come out of this entire awful situation was the song he was working on. He had meant for it to be a light piece about love and desire- well, until Geralt had sent him off and it had somehow turned into a breakup song. At first he hadn‘t even noticed that he was writing about the witcher. He‘d tried to conjure the image of a sweet girl in his mind but it kept turning into an image of Geralt kissing Yennefer. Gods, that woman had _no_ rights to steal his witcher, he‘d seen him first!

“ _I‘m weak, my love, and I am wanting_ …“, he sang, staring at his ale absentmindedly. Yes, weak he was. Too weak to keep Geralt to himself, too weak to do anything but accept the breakup. Had he always been so weak or had Geralt made him like this? He couldn‘t tell, it had been too long. He‘d run after the white-haired monster slayer since he was eighteen. He‘d practically dedicated his life to making him famous, had spent years travelling with him. What was he supposed to do now, alone with the love of his life gone?

For now all he wanted to do was to keep hiding away in his corner. And so he did for the rest of the day. And the following week. And the remaining month. Over the time however, his heartache and sorrow began to slowly turn into anger. How could that stupid witcher toy with him like that? He had left him to walk all the way down that stupid path by himself, unprotected from any monsters lurking in the shadows. He had left out rage on Jaskier when it had been _Yennefer_ who had made him mad to begin with! He‘d chosen the mage over him despite everything they had been through and despite the very obvious feelings he had shown for Geralt. And worst of all, he had made him feel unhappy, unwanted and weak.

But Jaskier was done being weak now. And he was done wallowing in self pity and misery. He wouldn‘t let Geralt have such an impact on his life anymore. From that day forward he‘d prove to himself that he was strong too. That he was able to do just fine by himself. That he didn‘t need a stupid witcher by his side. Jaskier was determined to turn his life around and do whatever it would take to leave that part of his life behind forever.

Truth be told, Geralt was sorry he‘d been such an asshole. Not that he‘d ever admit that out loud. For a day or two after he had told Jaskier to leave he remained angry. That damned bard had caused him more than enough trouble over the years, it served him right to have a timeout once in a while. He was almost certain Jaskier would come running back to him anyways, or at least figure out where he was going and very obviously follow behind him until Geralt would forgive him. After a few days his anger faded and he realised that he might not have been very fair to the bard. It wasn‘t exactly his fault that Yennefer and him had fought up on the mountain. Yes, perhaps sometimes Jaskier‘s actions had led to some unfortunate events. But he‘d never willingly done anything wrong- as much as he hated to admit it, usually the bard was only trying to help in his own clumsy way. Geralt decided that, when Jaskier would show up again, they‘d have a talk about a few new rules that would hopefully prevent any further unlucky incidents in the future.

It was after about a month on the road that Geralt realised Jaskier wouldn‘t return. It seemed he had driven him off for good this time. And he began feeling genuinely sorry. He barely believed it at first but he was actually missing the bard terribly. He‘d grown accustomed to his company and the roads were far too quiet without his terrible singing. However, Geralt doubted that he‘d seen Jaskier for the last time. That‘s what people always told him, right? People linked by destiny will always find each other. He‘d figured out the two of them were connected in some way about the third time their paths crossed coincidentally. So perhaps Jaskier wouldn‘t return to him voluntarily, but he had no doubt destiny would bring them back together, whether they wanted it or not.

A few years down the road Geralt had almost forgotten about the bard. Almost- there was no way anyone could truly forget a person like Jaskier. He went about his usual business, travelled from town to town, killed a monster here and there. He was used to this life- had been, before he‘d had any travel companions. So it was easy to slip back into it and stop worrying about all the people he was seemingly linked to by destiny. It was just like in old times, before the child surprise and Jaskier and his djinn wish. Only him and Roach against the rest of the world.

That was, until suddenly the number of contracts he made for slaying monsters decreased rapidly. Wherever he went the troubles were either dealt with already or the townsfolk had found another to do his job. Was there another witcher nearby? How come they hadn't run into each other then? Upon asking, a rather helpful young lady told him that apparently, there was a group of young men travelling around and offering to kill monsters.

Geralt wondered how they were so successful- of course, humans were technically able to slay a beast. Especially in bigger groups. But that only happened on rare occasions and with a lot of luck. He couldn‘t imagine a bunch of wannabe warriors slaying monsters for their living with no experience or knowledge on them at all. Perhaps one of them was a witcher after all? He‘d have to see this bunch, check out who it was exactly that kept stealing his jobs and contracts.

The trail of already dead monsters along with the lovesick tales of young girls about their brave saviours led him to a crossroad inn at last. When he entered the place a strangely familiar scent hit him. He couldn‘t quite place it; it smelled of herbs and something very particular that he just couldn‘t put his finger on. Geralt assumed, it was one of the typical scents of monsters that he just was not used to smell on someone else than himself.

The ‘huntsmen‘ as they called themselves were no more than a group of six ordinary men. Some were clad in leather, others wore bits of armor. They looked strong, muscular but by far not comparable to Geralt himself. And not a single one of them had white hair or oddly coloured eyes- no sign of another witcher. When Geralt stepped in, all of them were drinking ale and toasting to each other. From only looking at them he could imagine that they‘d managed to slay a monster perhaps once, maybe a weaker one. But they still did not appear to him as men who had the proper skill to hunt regularly. 

Seeing Geralt approach one of them looked up. He was one of the tallest, yet thinnest of the group with dark, dirty blond hair falling into his face.

“Look at that“, he told his companions, pointing his cup towards Geralt, “what a _sight_. Didn‘t think I‘d ever get to see a real witcher.“

“That‘s not just any witcher you dimwit“, another replied, a shorter ginger man, “from the looks of ‘im he‘s no other than the Butcher of Blaviken. Or the ‘White Wolf‘, ass they call him now.“

Usually Geralt would pay them no mind- he was used to that type of comment. But these folks were, in a way, stealing his contract possibilities and he was curious to know more.

“Didn‘t expect to see a witcher when you‘re doing a witcher‘s work?“, he asked, crossing his arms, “doesn‘t sound right to me.“

"What do you want?", the ginger grinned at him, showing his pearl white teeth. Upon closer inspection Geralt noticed that for easy townsfolk, especially someone who went hunting beasts, all of the men looked exceptionally clean and as if they were bathing more regular than some royalty, "are you jealous we're doing your job?"

Geralt sighed, "I'm just curious how you're doing it."

"Anyone can, if ya know how to swing a sword", the blond shrugged, "not a big difference between a steel and silver sword. And Hyazinth knows enough about the more tricky weaknesses in certain monsters."

“Who‘s Hyazinth?“

“Our leader, if you wanna call him that. He knows almost as much as you witchers“, the ginger crossed his arms, glaring at Geralt, “speaking of it, if I was you I‘d get lost before he comes back. He‘s not very fond of witchers.“

Geralt let out an amused grunt that could be interpreted as a chuckle. Whoever that Hyazinth guy was- rather untypical name, he thought- the chances were low that the man could do him any harm. In all honesty he was curious about the man. Was he a mage of some sort? Detailed knowledge about monsters and their weaknesses or attack strategies was not exactly taught to the simple folk as far as he knew.

“Might be too late for that now“, muttered the blond man and focused his attention onto someone or something behind Geralt. He heard the door to the inn open, heard footsteps approaching and stopping abruptly. There it was again, that strange familiar scent he could not place. The witcher turned around and found a pair of bright blue eyes looking back at him.

“You‘re Hyazinth, I assume“, he said, eyeing him. The stranger wore extravagant violet clothing with blue accents and a plate of armor underneath. A sword was slung over his shoulder; one half of the blade made of steel, Geralt realised, the other of silver. His hair was shoulder-long, brown with slight waves. A beard covered his face; dark circles were visible underneath his eyes. He stared at Geralt as if he‘d seen a ghost, a deep angry frown on his face.

“I am“, the man replied, cocking his head, “and you‘re Geralt of Rivia.“

He was used to people recognising him. No wonder with his hair and the cat-like eyes. He was also used to people having an instant dislike for him or not trusting him. But the way this man almost spat his name felt somehow off.

“What do you want, Witcher?”, he asked, reaching out one hand to take a cup of ale from one of the other huntsmen, “if you’re here for a contract, you’re too late. We already took care of the werewolf terrorising the town.”

“I’m aware”, Geralt replied, “but I am wondering how you did that. Or how you killed any of the other creatures.”

“Skill, natural talent, whatever you wanna call it”, Hyazinth shrugged, “I’ve encountered enough monsters to learn a bit about them.”

“You don’t learn from encountering monsters”, Geralt told him, “you die. But somehow you and your men are still alive- and you’re telling me you managed to by just coincidentally crossing paths with a monster?”

The man raised an eyebrow, “are you implying we’re too weak to fight the way you do? Just because we’re _human_ we’re not as skilled or strong as you?”

Geralt frowned. Somehow the man irritated him; he’d barely even said anything yet the other seemed genuinely hurt in his pride. How fragile exactly was his ego?

“I’m not saying you are weak”, he said calmly, “but witchers are taught to fight. And we’re also taught the strengths and weaknesses of certain creatures to know what to look out for. Something that is very hard to learn from just one encounter.”

“Perhaps I’m just good at observing?”, Hyazinth replied, “you’d be amazed how much you learn from just watching and analysing. I bet I’d even be able to beat _you_ in a fight.”

“Oh, really?”, Geralt almost had to smile. That man was _definitely_ overestimating his own skills, “I’d love to see that.”

“I take that as a challenge”, Hyazinth said immediately, taking a quick sip of his ale before handing it back to the man who gave it to him, “and I accept it. Let’s go for a quick duel, right here, outside of the inn.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. That was not exactly what he had come here for. Although it might be fun to pull the guy off his high horse. He had no doubt that he’d easily win the fight of course. The other man was a bit shorter than him and by far less muscular- even if he _wasn’t_ a witcher the chances were high he’d manage to overpower him unless he turned out to have some astonishing talent.

“Fine”, he said, already reaching for his sword- the steel one, “if that will make you give me a good explanation on what you and your hunters-”

“Huntsmen.”

“You and your _huntsmen_ are doing taking up witcher’s contracts.”

They stepped outside, the other six of Hyazinth’s companions following. Apparently they were curious to see them fight- and all of them looked quite certain that he’d win. The first blow came down on him so quickly and unexpected Geralt had barely time to block it. The guy was faster than he looked at least, he hadn’t even seen him unsheathe his sword. Immediately, Geralt’s fight instincts kicked in.

Their moves looked similar to a dance; smooth, swift. They moved almost synchronized to each other- if one backed up the other followed him immediately. It became apparent rather quickly to Geralt, that he was not sure who exactly was leading this dance. The stranger somehow seemed to block and parry his moves before he was even doing them. It was as if he was always a step ahead, already aware what Geralt would do next. For a moment he considered the possibility that he was a mind reader- even his most outlandish and unusual moves, which he usually reserved for actual serious fights, had barely any effect on the man. He was just about to raise his sword for another blow- when Hyazinth blocked him and caught him so out of balance, he stumbled a step backwards. With a loud clinking sound his sword fell out of his hand and to the ground. Before he had fully registered what had happened- even with his witcher senses- he had the tip of a sword on his throat, half silver half steel.

“You’re a tough challenge, I’ll admit”, Hyazinth fixated him with a smirk and chuckled, “but I told you I’d be able to beat you, Geralt.”

That smile… Geralt frowned. Could it really be…? It made no sense but- finally he knew where he recognised that scent. But then how had he not realised any sooner?

“Jaskier?”, he asked quietly.

Hyazinth- well, Jaskier- lowered his sword. His smile turned bitter instantly, “haven’t used that name in years.”

The rest of the huntsmen started mumbling in confusion. Apparently, none of them had ever heard the name before. Or perhaps they were wondering how the two of them knew each other.

“Jaskier, what the hell?”, Geralt asked. He looked him completely up and down again, “what happened to you? You’re like…”

“...a completely different person?”, he shrugged, “that was sort of the point in changing names”, he sighed, picking up Geralt’s sword from the ground and handing it to him, “and I didn’t exactly plan to meet you again. We were moving on to the next place anyways, so don’t worry. I’ll get out of your life again before I can ruin anything else in your life.”

Geralt was confused and that did not happen very often. When had his cheerful and carefree bard turned so bitter and gloomy? Something did not add up here. Perhaps something had happened to him in the years they’d been apart.

“There’s no need to leave so quickly”, he said slowly, trying to put his thoughts into words. Talking had never been Geralt’s favourite activity and he’d been alone for quite a while now which only made matters worse, “seriously, what happened?”

“You happened”, Jaskier stated, his expression blank, “you sent me away, you completely destroyed me. So I had to build myself up from scratch and just put the pieces back together to handle things on my own, without you.”

When Geralt did not reply, because truth be told, he had no idea what exactly he should say, Jaskier shook his head, “you haven’t changed, Witcher. Fine, if you want to know the details then let’s get somewhere more private.”

A short while later they were in the middle of the woods, having left the other huntsmen back at the inn. Jaskier barely looked at Geralt, only walked next to him quietly, apparently expecting the witcher to start the conversation. It was odd, really, He had no more doubt that this was Jaskier but there were so many things wrong about him, not only his appearance. The silence was eerie, the bard was supposed to never shut up. His lute was missing as well, he realised as he took another look at the sword slung over Jaskier’s shoulder in its place.

“Why the new name?”, he asked finally, feeling this was the easiest start into this talk.

“I didn’t like the old one anymore”, Jaskier shrugged, “it reminded me of you yelling at me. It’s not my name anyways. My real name, Julian, I barely ever use. I’ve tried out quite a few names in my life, it’s not the first time I’ve rebuilt myself. I usually go for flower related names, think I even had Dandelion at some point.”

“And you had to… _rebuild_.. yourself because…?”

Jaskier stopped in his track to look at him. How had he not recognised those eyes any sooner?

“Do you really need to ask that?”, he asked quietly, “you broke my heart, Geralt. Don’t tell me you did not even _notice_.”

“We had an argument”, Geralt said defensively, “how was I supposed to know an argument would turn you into an entirely different person? What’s up with that huntsman stuff anyways?”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”, Jaskier let out a bitter laugh, “alright, so… I was a complete mess for a while. And _very_ upset, which you _apparently_ did not expect to happen either. Anyways, at some point I decided to get over it. Sold my lute to buy a sword, found someone to train me. And somehow I ended up with the other guys. They’re good fighters, they only lacked the deeper knowledge- which I had, fortunately.”

“How do you know anything about fighting monsters?”

The bard cocked his head, “I’m not stupid, Geralt. I spent years watching you fight and I wrote down every detail I could get to make a song out of it. So I figured I might as well use some of that knowledge”, a small, proud smirk crossed his lips, “that’s how I beat you too, by the way. I’ve seen you fight often enough to figure out your moves. You’ve got quite an interesting fighting style but it gets predictable after some time.”

Geralt stared at him as if he’d spontaneously grown a second head, “you figured out my entire fighting style as well as the strengths and weaknesses of several monsters by just _watching_ me?”

The bard nodded, “there was a time where I enjoyed watching you quite a lot. And since I don’t need those notes anymore to turn them into songs I might as well…”

No more lute, no more songs? That made alarm bells ring in Geralt’s head. That did not sound anything like the Jaskier he remembered. It was pretty concerning.

“You don’t write anymore?”

“Don’t write. Don’t sing. Don’t play.”

“Wait, you quit music altogether?”, now things were getting _really_ serious. Geralt stepped closer, “Jaskier, that isn’t you. You love to perform.”

“Oh, I used to”, he seemed untouched, “but half my songs were about you and all I was able to produce is a damned breakup song. So I left it behind with all the other bad memories.”

“But I always thought you- did you say breakup song?”, Geralt tilted his head, “who did you break up with?”

“Are you… _actually_ serious?!”, Jaskier’s jaw dropped, “ _you_ broke up with _me_! You told me to fuck off and get out of your life! Geralt of Rivia, don’t tell me you broke my fucking heart and never even _realised_ that!”

"I never meant to hurt you like this", Geralt muttered. He'd always known that he was not good with words but he'd never thought he would end up genuinely upsetting Jaskier. The bard had never been bothered by his remarks but perhaps he'd gone too far after all, "it was not supposed to sound like a breakup forever."

" _If life could give me one blessing it would be to take you off my hands_ ", Jaskier repeated his exact words. As much as he'd tried to forget, that sentence was burned into his mind and heart for good, "sounds pretty final to me."

"Not forever", Geralt repeated, "never forever. I… should have never said that. I let my anger out on you. I didn't know you had… you know.."

"Feelings?"

"Feelings for me. You were always flirting with everyone so I assumed it was not any different", he'd never felt so foolish before. Of course he had noticed Jaskier taking interest in him on multiple occasions. But he'd assumed it was nothing different than his 'love' for every other person he found attractive. He himself had felt affection for the bard from the very beginning- but he would have never put that in words in risk of losing the one person who enjoyed being around him. Well, look where that got him.

“I was genuinely in love with you“, Jaskier admitted, “I mean, I‘m genuinely in love with most people I flirt with. But it was just that bigger kind of love with you. I…“, he shook his head, “I assumed you‘d know. That perhaps you had accepted my feelings which is why you let me stay with you. Which is a stupid thing to think, looking back on it. Maybe I should have figured out you didn‘t return my feelings the first time you met Yennefer. Because you very clearly returned whatever she was feeling, very passionately.“

“That‘s not fair“, Geralt said, “you can‘t compare yourself and Yen. She‘s like this… this force of energy. Like…“

“Like a storm?“

“Yes. And you‘re not“, this was one of the rare occasions where Geralt wished he had Jaskier‘s talent with words to express his feelings, “you‘re like… a soft breeze. Annoying on days that are already stormy but perfect company on a hot summer day.“

He was not sure if the comparison sounded the way he wanted it to but it made Jaskier chuckle at least, “so you‘re saying you sent me away because it was a stormy day?“

“In a way. I needed a break- not from you but from people in general“, Geralt admitted. He‘d never been the most social person to walk the continent. So sometimes he needed time for himself, especially if he had to cool down his anger, “we would have crossed paths again sooner or later anyways.“

“Why are you so sure of that?“

“People linked by destiny will always find each other.“

Jaskier‘s bluish grey eyes widened before he frowned in confusion. He seemed to frown a lot these days, Geralt thought, it would suit him more to get his old smile back.

“What are you talking about?“, he asked, “why would we be linked by destiny? Did I accidentally bind myself to you somehow…? You know, like you did with Yennefer?“

“No“, the shadow of a smile crossed Geralt‘s lips, “we‘ve been bound from the very beginning. I believe soulmates are connected from the moment they meet.“

That‘s what this was, right? Once he had realised they were linked by destiny he had tried to figure out why exactly. He was bound to the child in Cintra by the law of surprise. He had bound himself to Yen with his djinn wish. But Jaskier? The bond with Jaskier had not been created by him or anyone else. He had wondered why destiny would make them soulmates; a grumpy old witcher and a bard with a smile brighter than the sun. They were so different it was almost impossible for them to get along. And yet here they were.

“Soulmates… usually end up in love“, the bard said slowly, “I mean, I already told you that I love you. So does that mean you…?“

Geralt nodded, “although I‘ve never been entirely sure until I realised I drove you off.“

“Perhaps I‘m not the only one who has changed“, Jaskier said quietly, “who would have thought that the Butcher of Blaviken‘s hardest battle is to express his feelings. Couldn‘t you have just come to the conclusion that you love me before breaking my heart?“

"That would have made things a lot easier", replied, "that's the downside of destiny. It's never just easy."

There was a moment of silence between them. Geralt took another closer look at Jaskier; he had to admit, he was starting to like the rougher appearance. But long hair or short, he prefered him with a smile on his face.

"What are we going to do about this situation now?", Jaskier asked finally. He looked at the witcher, raising an eyebrow, "I haven't quite forgiven you yet. Might take me a few years. Could be I need to yell at you to get out of my life first, then wander around for a few years and come to the conclusion my life is boring without you in it."

That comment made Geralt chuckle, "is there anything I can do to speed up that process?"

"There is absolutely _no_ way", the bard said, "except, of course, with a sincere apology, a new lute and more of that soft side of yours."

"I'm only buying you a new lute if you keep the sword", the witcher said, "I'm curious to see you use it in an actual fight. And I'll have to get revenge for my loss earlier."

Jaskier laughed- and in that moment it was the most beautiful noise in the world, "such a bad loser, Geralt! Is that how it's gonna be from now on? We'll fight side by side and I'll write songs about the White Wolf and his brave companion Jaskier?"

"I thought you weren't using that name anymore?"

"It's the name I had when I met you. Clearly destiny wants me to keep it."

Truth be told, Geralt did not care what name he wanted to be called- Jaskier, Julian, Hyazinth. It did not matter who he wanted to be; a bard or a hunter or something entirely else. As long as he was _his_.


End file.
